An Alcoholic Accident
by annied01
Summary: George surveyed the bottles and potions stacked up behind the bartender. "I'll have a shot of something strong," he said. / T for incest / QLFC Season 3, Round 10. Oneshot.


_Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 10_

 _Team: Holyhead Harpies_

 _Position: Beater 1_

 _Task: Write a romantic relationship between family members_

 _Prompts Used:_

 _(word) careless_

 _(word) reach_

 _(dialogue) "What do you want from me?"_

 _Word Count: 1,976_

"Come on, George, you _never_ come out with us anymore," Ginny was pleading with her older brother, staring up at him with a sad, almost reproachful look in her eyes.

He shrugged and looked at the ceiling, the floor… Anywhere but his not-so-little sister who stood in front of him. "I don't know, Gin…" he sighed. "I'm very busy with the shop right now. Should be getting a shipment of Exploding Remembralls tonight, don't want to miss it…"

George was just making excuses and they both knew it.

She pulled him into a sudden hug, and he cringed away from the feel of the lacy black number she was wearing that now pressed against him. "We're _all_ upset about Fred," she whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his neck.

The twin pulled away from her and stepped out of her reach, shaking his head. "You don't show it," he muttered.

Ginny stepped towards him again. "We are all upset," she said again, imploring with him to really listen to her. "But he wouldn't want us to put our lives on hold for his sake. _Any_ of us."

"You're just saying that so you don't feel guilty for forgetting about him!" George fired at her, but Ginny didn't take the bait.

His beautiful, nineteen year old sister brushed imaginary lint from the bottom of her dress – which only came down to mid-thigh – before glancing up at him again from heavily made up eyes. "We'll be at _Accio Alcohol_ if you want to join us," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "Everyone will be there. We'd love it if you came," and with that, Ginny glanced at herself once in George's floor length mirror, then left.

He forced himself not to look at her as she walked out of the room.

When had his sister grown up? When had she become such a… Such a _woman_?

George was glad Molly and Arthur were in Romania, because if they had seen what Ginny was wearing to go out, they would _not_ have approved. He had to fight the instinct to tell her to go and change, himself.

Was Harry going to be at the nightclub as well? She had said _everyone_ , so that probably included Ginny's boyfriend of eighteen months. George wondered briefly if she was wearing the dress for his benefit. It didn't really matter to him. She could flaunt herself to whomever she wanted, as far as George was concerned. Ginny could take care of herself, and no doubt wouldn't at all appreciate him butting in.

Ever since that fateful night almost three years ago, George had been in a state of constant shock, or so it seemed to those around him. All he did was work at the shop. Sometimes he went for days without eating or sleeping, and he hadn't bothered to shave in weeks. Everything was just such an _effort_ now.

Why bother with anything when life was a finite number of days? When it was only a matter of time before everything you ever do is forgotten? When there is no trace left at all that you lived and breathed and loved and laughed?

One day all of the people who ever knew Fred Weasley would be dead, and then there'd be nobody left to remember him.

Thinking about that broke George's heart.

Why bother trying when everything was so completely and utterly useless?

It was easier to just be careless. To ride the waves of the Sea of Life, letting the water take you wherever the _hell_ it wants and not caring, not worrying, not doing anything except keeping your head just above the water.

But sometimes it was hard not to just sink beneath the waves.

* * *

"Where's George? I thought you were gonna get him to come out with us?" Harry had to shout over the music as they danced in the club, and she shrugged helplessly.

"He didn't want to," she told him, speaking right into his ear. Then she downed the rest of her firewhiskey and pulled Harry in close, kissing him passionately.

The club was packed to the limit, and nobody paid any attention to the couple entwined together in the middle of the dance floor. The couple in question were, in turn, too busy to notice when a tall boy with a mop of red hair and a scruffy red beard slipped into the club.

* * *

George hadn't meant to go to the club. He really _did_ have a big shipment coming in that night – but he supposed it wasn't that important he was there to see it.

So, without really taking in anything, George had changed out of his week-old clothes into a fresh outfit, and gone down to _Accio Alcohol_.

When he arrived, the flashing lights and deafening music had almost sent him straight out again. But he had come so far, he just couldn't be bothered to drag his weary feet back home again.

He'd made his way over to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey before spotting Ron. George almost called out to him, before realising he was in the middle of an intimate moment with Hermione. Sighing, he turned back to the bar and took a sip of his drink.

The liquid burned down his throat and woke him up, giving him more energy than he'd had in a long time. Loving this alien feeling, George downed the rest of the glass in seconds and slammed it down in front of the barman, his head spinning.

"Another," he growled, his voice hoarse. At that moment, Ron spotted him.

"George!" the youngest male Weasley cried, coming over and slapping his brother heartily on the back.

Ron took a seat on barstools to the right of him and Hermione sat down next to him. They signalled the barman, who brought two firewhiskeys' over along with George's second. "I can't believe you came out, bro," Ron said happily. "It's great, right?" he was shouting over the music, and George thought grumpily that getting a headache was _not_ his idea of a good time out. Still, he found himself nodding, albeit with fake enthusiasm that he knew Ron could see straight through.

"Let's go and dance," he yelled, before leading Hermione away by the hand.

George followed reluctantly.

* * *

With the strobe lighting, deafening music and alcohol churning in his bloodstream, George quickly lost sense of all time, instead letting himself just go _crazy_ on the dance floor.

It wasn't long, though, before he started sobering up again, so he reluctantly left the dance in the middle of his favourite song – _Do The Hippogriff;_ a few years old now, but still brilliant – and made his way back to the bar.

"What'll it be this time?" the bartender asked, reaching below the bar to retrieve a glass.

George surveyed the bottles and potions stacked up behind the bartender. "I'll have a shot of something strong," he said. "I don't care what."

The bartender shrugged and poured him a shot of something dark, milky purple. When George drank it, his whole head started spinning. People and objects blurred together and became indistinguishable to George as he stood there, swaying slightly. Oh, yes. He liked that. "Another," he said, turning back to face the bar. At this, the bartender looked slightly concerned, but poured the drink without protesting.

When he stood up now, the entire room melted for a moment, before being sucked back up into a more or less stable position.

After that, the night was a blur.

George stumbled from the bar, heading towards the wall at the side of the dance floor. He pushed through groups of friends, ignoring their annoyed remarks and glares. His gaze was fixed on a ginger haired woman standing next to the wall, swaying gently to the music. The hand of a dark haired man was wrapped around her waist, and his head was bent as he whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it made the woman – Ginny, of course – look up and see George, who was almost in front of them now.

"George! You came out, after all," she said warmly. Her smile faded when she took in his glazed eyes and slightly shaking hands. "Are you okay?" Ginny asked as she took a step closer, Harry's hand falling from around her. She put a steadying hand on his arm, and George involuntarily stepped closer to her.

There was barely inches between them, and George – sickeningly – let his gaze stray from her bright brown eyes, full of concern, to the short black dress that clung so appealingly to her body. Everything in the room was spinning, except for himself and Ginny. It was like they were trapped in the middle of a hurricane that only George could see. Around it went, faster and faster, like it was building up to something. Round and round and round, and Ginny was so close to him, and she was such a beautiful woman, and Harry had disappeared into the hurricane and he wasn't thinking straight and suddenly his lips were on hers.

Ginny didn't even react for a moment. He took her by such surprise, George had already pushed her against the wall by the time she realised what was happening. She tried to push him off her, but George had her in his grip and wasn't letting go.

She writhed against the wall, trying to get away, but George was taller, bigger and stronger than her.

But then an arm came between them, and someone wrenched George off. Ginny ran away as soon as she was free, not looking back, not seeing as Harry punched George square in the jaw and her brother collapsed to the ground.

She didn't stop as Harry called her name, didn't stop until she reached the toilets and vomited into the toilet bowl, again and again until she had nothing left to bring up.

* * *

"What do you want from me?"

George had opened the door to Ginny's bedroom, where she sat on the bed, staring out of the window.

She didn't even turn to look at him, and George didn't try to venture further into the room than the doorway. He stared down at his shoes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

No reply. No sign she had even heard. "I'm sorry," he said again, louder this time. "I know that my actions were- were _inexcusable_ , but I was _drunk_. I don't even _know_ what shots I took, but they were bloody strong."

He sighed. "I know that just _looking_ at me now will be unbearable, so… So I won't make you. It won't be permanent, but for a few months at least, I will be living in Romania. Ron will handle the shop for me," he tried to smile, but it came out as a twisted grimace. "I'll learn how to look after dragons. Charlie said he can teach me." Ginny still sat there motionless. George got the message. She didn't care what he had to say. "I'm sorry," he said again, before turning from the room.

As George stepped across the threshold, back into the hall, he paused, waiting for Ginny to call out. Any second, and she would call, "Wait!" and tell him he didn't have to go to Romania, because she forgave him.

He waited there, one foot inside the room, one foot out. Finally, Ginny spoke. "George?"

George spun around eagerly. "Yes?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, and there was such a _dead_ look in her eyes, that he knew then, there was no hope. "Close the door on your way out," Ginny said, before turning away again.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Ginny put her head in her hands.


End file.
